


The Freedom of Falling

by TheWeirdOneL



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Villain Tony Stark, also bruce banner is a pure hearted being so jot that down, also like?? this feels anti-avengers but i swear its not, and definite thor/bruce, anyways this is a villain au but we all know tony stark is no villain, because sometimes marvel doesnt do it right, because why not, but in the context of the world hes a villain, except maybe anti-wanda cause i just dont like her lmao, its only partially movie compliant, theres no anti-ing here, this is heavy irondad and spiderson, thought i should add that there might be ironstrange or winteriron in the future, tony stark is so fucking good dont @ me, villain AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-06-25 10:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15638883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdOneL/pseuds/TheWeirdOneL
Summary: Tony Stark is a villain, according to everyone that Peter Parker is supposed to trust.They tell him he's a traitor, a danger to the public, and Peter has no choice but to believe them.He's an Avenger, after all. It's their job to fight the bad guys.But when Tony continues to prove every expectation about himself wrong, the line between hero and villain becomes blurred beyond repair.And soon Peter starts to think that maybe he's been fighting for the wrong side this entire time.





	1. Fevers and Fires

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been writing prompts for Irondad, and I never intended to start writing a series, but I found one prompt that gave me a Villain AU idea. And I was gonna just settle for writing maybe two prompts for it, but then my brain went into overdrive and now I have a whole series planned out. Oops.  
> Anyway, here it is <3

 

> _“Well you and me both thought we knew where we were going,_
> 
> _I wonder where it went wrong.” - Khai Dreams; Do You Wonder_

* * *

Peter Parker has been sat in the same room with his mask clinging to his face for ten minutes now, and it doesn't take him long to realise that he hates it. It takes him even less time to realise that it's not the _room_ that he hates. It's a hot day, and the heat is all-encompassing and inescapable, and it leeches onto him like a stubborn child. His head is a swirling, scorching cauldron of white wood and delirium, but he doesn't stop the people around him to complain. The churning of his stomach tells him it's only him feeling the heat today. He's caged in on all sides, surrounded by people whose body heat lingers around him like vultures. They're all staring up at a man who used to be an idol to him, but his eyes don't follow their gaze. 

He's not sure what the man is saying anymore, and right now he doesn't especially care. It's all business and dull politics, nothing that he _wants_ to care about right now. He'd already stopped listening five or so minutes ago, and he sees no point in trying to listen now. The moment he starts to listen, he'll hear everything. The ticking of the clock next door, the typing of the computers beneath his feet, the clacking of heels and stomping of boots. The thought of his makes his stomach flip. Feeling the heat finally start weighing down on his conscious, he lets himself fall into the first distraction he can find. It comes in the form of one small, bittersweet thought: Where did I go wrong? It's a simple question, but it leads Peter down a rabbit hole of memories and far away from the people around him. Ironically, the answer he finds himself at is one that burns as hot as his fever.

It all started with a fire.

Scars of first or second degree blistering heat remain taut on his chest, spread out over his heart and lungs like spiderwebs. He reaches a hand up and lays it flat over his disfigured skin, feeling his hysterical heart beating in protest of the memory. The scars are a constant, uncomfortable reminder of that day, but it's the memory that hurts that little bit more. He knows they'll linger long after the scars finally stop tingling. He remembers losing everything. His toys, his clothes, the only pictures that remained of his long-deceased parents. No matter how hard he digs his fingernails into the scars or how painfully he prods at his mind, he can't remember what they look like anymore. He remembers how close he got to losing his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. And he remembers how close he got to losing himself in the flames - the scars don't let him forget. They’re seven years old now, but still they scream at him with every movement that stretches the skin too far. He hates them - he hates the memory.

The fire had consumed everything that had been their home. It enveloped the fresh start they'd made away from the streets where Richard and Mary Parker took their final breaths, and spat them out without a care for the consequences. Peter knew the fire started it all, because a year later they finally moved back to Queens. And from there his long-winded tale of tragedy and happiness wove its peculiar web, bringing him here. To this room, to these people.

Peter drops his hand back down onto the table with a thud, garnering him a few stares before eyes move away in disinterest. The fever burns hotter, and he lets his head loll back into the chair as he pulls himself further into his distraction. He thinks about Queens.

The first thing he remembers is meeting his best friend. Peter sees his name start flashing across the screen of his muted phone for the fourth time that day, and he quickly turns the screen down so no one can see the 15-year old face of Ned Leeds. Peter loves and adores Ned with every ounce of his heart, and he isn't ashamed to admit that to anyone. Ned welcomed him home and stuck by his side ever since, even through nightmares and a stress disorder that neither of them understood. With each day Peter grows more scared that he'll lose him like he's lost everyone else he ever loved, but he admits that to no one.

Next, he remembers a high school for genius kids. One that he never would have thought him and his best friend would ever go to. It was a place of bullies, a lab that he soon became all too familiar with, and bimonthly field trips. Peter likes his school, even despite the bullies and the few awful teachers there, but he knows it's the reason for who is he is. And he doesn't know whether to be happy about that or not. His thoughts shift to a field trip and a spider bite. He doesn't remember the field trip all that well. It was at Oscorp, as far as he can recall, and he remembers looking into an empty tank of a spider before he felt two sharp teeth bite into his hand. The scars still remain to this day. It had sent shock waves through his DNA and for an entire week afterwards it left him a crumpled, crying mess in his bed. He'd never experienced pain like that before in his life, not even in the fire.

It worried Aunt May and Uncle Ben to no end. But even when it miraculously fixed his eyesight and made his body and senses stronger, he didn't tell them the truth. He didn't tell them that somehow this little radioactive spider had made him a superhero. Instead he went about his life, secretly using the lab at school to manufacture webs and a shoddy pyjama suit to hide his face. And then he went out and fought crime, like every other superhero in the world did. Peter smiled at the memory of it. Of desks exploding in a sticky web substance and of a silly tracksuit top with a spider stitched messily on the front. He saved so many people back then. Old ladies with stolen purses, kids separated from parents, store owners getting robbed. The smile on his face faded into a frown. He saved so many people, but none of them were Uncle Ben.

Flashes of bullets and blood on concrete and gloved hands fill Peter's mind, and he has to stop himself from physically shaking. He hates remembering that night. So he moves on, visibly pushes away the memory and reels in the more recent ones. He went out a lot more after that night - fighting crime with a sudden new sense of purpose. He remembers the ritual sneaking out of his window long after May had gone to bed, and climbing in at god-awful hours of the morning with a torn suit and bruised skin. He remembers that one night Ned caught him, and a laugh bubbles in his throat but he pushes it down straight away. For the whole year after Ben's death he spent every moment he could fighting crime, building up a name and a reputation. Letting the entire world know that Spiderman was there to save people, no matter what.

For a moment he looks around at the room, and another frown pulls down the corners of his mouth. In letting the entire world know about Spiderman, he ended up inviting the Avengers to his doorstep. Or something like that. It was only a few months ago that they kidnapped him, because that was technically what they had done. Two of them had staged some sort of robbery, and when they ran down into some dark alleyway, he followed them. Before he knew it one of them had done some weird sort of magic on his brain, and he woke up in a dirty old building. He still remembers that night like it was yesterday. He had woken up surrounded by superheroes that he had idolised growing up, and a man who said he was from the government.

Only the government official introduced himself. The others stood wordlessly like statue bodyguards while the man did all the talking. Peter still sees him from time to time, more than he'd care for. His name is Thomas Sawyer, and the first thing he ever said to Peter was that everything he was doing was illegal. And then he told him that they'd forgive him if he joined them. Peter still isn't sure if any of them know he's still a teenager, so he doesn't bring it up. Sawyer told him that joining would mean being in a well-paid job to fight crime alongside a team of his childhood heroes. He said, "why not save the whole world instead of just a little portion of it?" and Peter couldn't argue with that. In fact, it sounded like the dream. It sounded like what Ben would have wanted for him, so of course he agreed. And then all of a sudden Spiderman had become an Avenger, with a shiny new suit and even his own lab. It had sounded so great, but now Peter wasn't so sure.

Because now he was here. And it was all because of some stupid fire.

With a sudden awkward clearing of the throat, Peter sat up in his seat. The heat was still burning up his head, and protested at the sudden movement. He pushed away the discomfort, and finally brought himself back to reality. He'd thought long enough about the past - about every tiny detail that led up to this infuriatingly long meeting in the hottest room on the planet. He needed to start paying attention and living in the present - that was his job now. Unfortunately the present didn't seem to have time to wait for him. Peter didn't know how much time had passed, but now there was a screen lit up at the front of the room and everyone was staring at it. On the screen was a map of New York, with one singular, motionless, blinking red dot on it. Peter looked up at the man who had been speaking, hoping he would elaborate. The man stayed quiet for a moment, looking at the screen with a grim face. Captain America, or Steve Rogers as he insisted, didn't smile all that often. At least, not when he was all dressed up in his fancy star-spangled superhero suit. He had a lot of worries and sadness etched into his face. It was one of the things Peter related to, but it didn't bond them in the slightest. Steve was a quiet man who kept to himself most days. Aside from giving mission reports, him and the face of American propaganda didn't speak all that much. Peter stared at him for a few more moments, almost considering asking for clarification until he finally spoke.

"As you can see, thanks to Bruce's tracking device we've been able to locate the exact whereabouts of the vigilante's," he said, voice dull and rigid.

Peter looked across the table until his eyes found Bruce. He was a man somewhere in his 40s, with all the stress marks of a man in his 70s who'd probably been to war, and lost. He was a scientist, with 7 phD's under his belt and an IQ higher than most of the people in the room combined. It made him easy to talk to - in fact Peter might even say he's the only Avenger he considers to be a friend. They get each other on a level that neither of them have quite figured out yet. Bruce does the tech for the team, and sometimes he lets Peter help out. He develops the comms they use out on the field and the AI systems built into the tower, and he builds weapons and things that he doesn't always tell Peter about. All that meaning that most of his days are spent cooped up in a lab. Peter thinks it's more than he's trapped there, because they don't let him go on missions. Or leave the building. He still doesn't know why, but he's under strict order not to ask. At the mention of his name, Bruce's face drops into a bashful frown and he retreats into himself. He always looks like he's trying to make himself invisible. But when he looks up and locks eyes with Peter, a small smile manages to cross his face. Sometimes Peter thinks Bruce is the only one who knows how young he is.

He feels sad for him sometimes, but he tries not to think about it.

Instead, he looks back at the screen and at the blinking dot, and he thinks about the "vigilantes". Steve doesn't like to say who they are, even though they all know. None of the team do. The names are never brought up in normal conversation, and not even because normal conversation isn't a common occurrence around here. There's bad blood there - something specific that even Bruce won't tell him about. But Peter gets it, and he's glad he doesn't have to hear those names. They call them vigilantes because they're exactly what Peter used to be. They're superheroes who fight crime under their own jurisdiction, and that makes them criminals themselves. There's a lot of vigilantes out there, but these ones are special. These ones used to be Avengers. And Peter thinks maybe they only call them vigilantes because it makes it easier to forget they used to be called friends.

For a few minutes the room is silent as they watch the blinking dot. It stays motionless, and Peter wonders why they aren't going there to apprehend them. These vigilantes have been avoiding the Avengers for years now. They're illusive, always able to be at the right place at the right time. It didn't make sense that they wouldn't jump on the first solid lead they'd ever gotten. Part of him though is glad they're staying there, watching instead of attacking. He's only been part of the team for a few months now, and none of his missions have involved trying to capture these people. He's not ready to face this yet. Especially not with this damned fever.

"Cap, why aren't we going after these assholes now?" one of the Avengers, Clint Barton, asks. There's a bitterness to his tone that tells Peter he's been waiting for this day for a long time.

The bitterness even shows in his face - in fact, it shows in a lot of their faces. Clint's leaning back into his seat with crossed arms, and there's a bow and arrow set flung over the back of his seat. He's dressed up in his usual leather ensemble, and it takes Peter a while to notice that all the Avengers are in their suits. Or something like suits.

Steve is in his star-spangled uniform. Natasha Romanoff is in her all black leather outfit, like Clint (it's a spy thing, apparently). Sam Wilson is wearing his weird bird costume, wings awkwardly folded up behind his back. Vision is wearing his usual red cape, because he's a robot and never needs to change clothes. Wanda Maximoff is the same, wearing her usual casual clothes. Bruce Banner is wearing a plain top and sweatpants, because he's not allowed to leave the building, even for the vigilantes. And then there's him, dressed in his typical red and blue spandex suit with a little spider emblem sat on his chest. Not because he even expected to go on a mission, but because none of them knows what he looks like and he doesn't plan on changing that today.

Peter looks up again at Steve, and the frown on the man's face is bigger this time. "Sawyer doesn't want us fighting them on their territory," he replies. "We'll have an advantage if they're out in the open." No one argues.

Peter wants to ask, "but what if innocent people get hurt in the fight?" But he doesn't, he knows he can't. So instead he sits there with them for another five minutes, watching the screen in silence. He always used to think that being part of a team of superheroes would be like being part of a family. That there would be laughter and joking quips and inside jokes and a sense of familiarity. He didn't think it would feel this empty. There's something missing here. Part of him wishes that something would happen so he could get away from this feeling. But then, part of him wishes for nothing. He doesn't want to think of what he'll have to finally face when they go after these people - it nearly terrifies him.

One of his wishes is granted when the dot finally starts moving. It's heading inwards into the city, moving with purpose. They're attacking, or something. Peter still isn't quite sure what it is they do wrong nowadays, other than being traitors. At Steve's command, the room is up on their feet and rushing out of the door. It all happens in a blur and Peter ends up being last, still stuck inside the room with Steve. It takes him a while to realise that he isn't moving, that he _can't_ move. His legs are shaking, and he feels frozen in place as he watches Steve press the little button in his comms.

"Boss, Tony Stark is on the move."

When Peter hears that name, he stops breathing. He feels like he's going to be sick, and he's not sure if it's the fever anymore. His heart is banging against his chest so hard he's sure his scars are going to tear themselves open to let it free. He thinks of the past, of that web of tragedy and happiness and a time before it started weaving itself. For a brief second he touches his chest, feels the scars scream underneath his suit, before Steve is gently shoving him out of the door and talking reassurance into his ear. It changes nothing.

He's on his way to ruin the life of a man who once upon a time saved his, and the thought makes him feel sick.


	2. Villains and Missing Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Wow! 3000 words again? Wow!  
> In this chapter, we meet Tony and his "villainous" team. Get excited <3

> _“I guess these sort of things just take their time_ _  
> _ _Sometimes it’s just enough to feel alright_ _  
> _ _But is that all that i've been working for my life.” - Khai Dreams; Fireflies_

* * *

 Tony Stark wasn’t an unhappy individual, not in the slightest, but he wasn’t exactly happy either. He always seemed to find himself in the middle of the two extremes - always ‘fine’, or ‘average’, or ‘okay’. He didn’t find himself nearly on the brink of crying at every waking moment, but he never often found reason to burst into joyous laughter either. Not like he used to. He was never really happy (sometimes he was, but those moments were few and far between), and he was never unhappy, and really he should have been happy with that. He should have been grateful that at least he was okay, at least he was fine. But he wasn’t. Maybe he was selfish (he certainly believed so), but at least being happy or unhappy felt like being alive. Even crying a river and drowning himself in alcohol felt more like living than being just ‘fine’. It frustrated him. Even when he was around people who he loved he couldn’t help the emptiness - it wasn’t them that caused it, it was just something that was missing. It was the feeling like something was there, but still absent. Hovering around him but always just out of his reach.

Sometimes he liked to think about what that missing thing might be. Maybe it was a person, or a people, or maybe it was just a simple object. But everything and everyone he needed was right here in this penthouse, sitting right behind him and talking while he stared quietly out the window. There was no way he could handle anymore people - he loved the family he had now, there was no room for more. More people only meant more chance of betrayal. He’d had enough of that already, and the tower that stood tall in the corner of his eye was proof enough of that. With it’s stupid flashing blue ‘A’ and it’s weird thumb-like design, it looked ridiculous. Mocking, almost. He hated it. Sometimes, part of him felt like whatever he was missing was there. Hidden in the walls of a place he used to call home - in a place that _he_ built. But that couldn’t be it. Whatever and whoever was there now meant nothing to him. They made sure he knew that when they forced him away but kept everything he’d built from scratch for their own selfishness. He hoped it annoyed them knowing that everything they touched in there was his. He hopes they know that the only reason they've ever come close to capturing him is because they're using _his_ technology and _his_ ideas. And that the reason they all have such high-tech equipment and such a beautiful home in the first place is because of _him_. He hopes they can’t live with the fact that he did it all for them. Call him spiteful, but he hopes most of all that the Avengers aren’t happy one bit without him around anymore.

Maybe he just needed a pet.

“You know what we need? A dog. Or a cat,” he spoke, looking over his shoulder to his teammates. They stopped talking to look at him, varying degrees of confusion spread across their faces.

Of all the people in that damned tower, he's glad these ones stuck around. He's glad Bucky Barnes came to him when he and Rhodey first escaped, giving them a home that he’d started to make when he abandoned the Avengers only a year prior. He’s glad Rhodey followed him even when they both believed they were only running towards death. He’s glad he trusted him to give him a better life than what the Avengers had been offering. He's glad that when Thor came back to Earth he immediately chose him, without question. The God never liked being told what to do. He's glad Stephen Strange, even with all his quirks and sass, decided that Tony was better than whatever lurked behind government doors. He might even say he's just a little bit happy for this odd family.

“If we’re getting a pet, it’s dog or nothing,” Bucky said, his metal arm gleaming in the early morning sun as he went to tie his long hair back. The corners of Tony’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly.

“We are not getting any animals,” Stephen said, lifting his cup of herbal tea to his lips with eyes flickered shut. His blunt tone left no room for argument. “You two can barely look after yourselves, let alone a dog.”

“We don’t have time to look after any animals anyway,” Rhodey agreed, and Tony rolled his eyes. Typical boring old men, they were never any fun.

“On Asgard I had a lovely pet snake,” Thor added with a bright smile. “Of course, that turned out to be my brother Loki, and then he stabbed me, but I _do_ love snakes. You should get one, Stark.” The room went silent for a moment.

“A snake it is then,” Tony agreed, only half jokingly. He didn’t have time to unravel whatever the hell Thor just said.

As nice as a little pet canine would’ve been, he couldn’t imagine that a pet would fill in that missing piece of his life. Not enough to make him happy, anyways. At this point he didn’t know what would. So he turned around again, and instead of dwelling on it he stared at the sunset. He’d been “just fine” for seven years now, he could live with another day. Besides, the sunset alone was enough to at least put a smile on his face. Their penthouse was the perfect place to see it all. To see the way the sun cast a sleepy yellow over high rise apartments as it disappeared in the horizon. To see how the blanket of soft pinks and oranges was soon enveloped by the black of night. It always pulled him into a sense of peace - a world where he didn’t have to think about what laid in wait just outside his doors. It was easy to forget the world existed when he was so high up, watching the cogs of the universe spin right in front of his eyes with a mug of hot chocolate burning his Summer-warmed hands. Being here, watching the sunset with soft, familiar voices low in the background, was the closest he could ever hope to get to something that might be happiness. Not even the eyesore of that awful tower could ruin this view.

He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath of the thick industrial air around him. Even from up so high he couldn’t escape the smell of the streets - of fast food stands and smog and people. But, as beautifully refreshing the air of the country or seaside was, New York smelled like home and nothing could beat that. He liked the life of it all, the ever-present knowledge that everything was still going on around him. He liked knowing that the gears still turned even if he wasn’t moving them. He was used to the smell of smoke and pollution by now, and he was used to the chaos of sounds that accompanied it. So much so, that when a string of police sirens chorused throughout the streets below he almost didn't notice it. Immediately a shuffling of feet and the blaring of the tv interrupted the peaceful chaos, and he turned to find his teammates circled around the screen. Faintly, he could hear a news reporter speaking.

“Police have just arrived at the scene of the robbery, but have yet to enter the building. Officials state that there may be twenty civilians held hostage inside, with a possible few already dead. We are currently unaware if the Avengers will be arriving to deal with this crisis-”

“They won’t,” Tony heard Bucky mumble grimly under his breath. He wasn’t wrong.

The Avengers never dealt with these type of crises, not unless the hostages were big government names. The Avengers were only ever there for the big things - the kidnappings of important people, attempted assassinations or bombings, attacks of the mutant variety. They were never there for the little guys, so Tony wouldn’t have been surprised if they didn’t turn up today. At least, not until _they_ got there. After all, if it could be dealt with by the police then it didn’t need the Avengers. He still remembers a time when he only blamed the government for that, because it was _them_ they stopped them from helping out normal civilians. Now, he blamed them all. Sometimes the people that let it happen are just as worse.

“We should go,” Tony said, downing the rest of his boiling hot chocolate with a flinch. “We can make a plan or something along the way.” The others merely nodded their heads, not needing the clarification as to ‘where’ as they rushed off in separate directions.

Tony, meanwhile, stayed behind, still staring at the screen as he called for his armour and each part wrapped around his skin with ease. There were police cars completely surrounding the outside of the building - it was some bank in Midtown, completely cut off with tape and police officers. There must’ve been a couple dozen of them. None of them were attempting to enter the building, or negotiate with the hostage takers inside. It seemed like all they were doing was waiting for the Avengers to arrive and fix everything. They would have to wait a long time for that.

“Bucky’s going to follow us on his bike,” Stephen said softly as he entered the room. Tony turned to see him fiddling with the sleeves of his usual sorcerer’s robes, his pet cloak sat around his shoulders with a light sway to its movement. It freaked him out, just a little. Rhodey and Thor followed behind, Rhodey suited up in his War Machine armour and Thor proudly holding his magic axe over his shoulder. There was an arrogance to the God’s smile that he liked - it made it easier to believe that they would be coming home instead of to a prison cell.

Tony nodded, firing up his repulsors. “Alright, let’s go team knock-off Avengers,” he announced, but the humour was lost somewhere in his growing anxiety. He knew it would only take the Avengers ten minutes to catch on that they were there, five or so to arrive and ruin absolutely everything. They wouldn’t even have the audacity to let his team finish saving the hostages - they wouldn’t care.

“We’ll save them before they get there,” Rhodey reassured him. He always seemed to know exactly what he was worrying about. But, then again, Tony could imagine it was something they were all worrying about.

He looked behind him, watching as his teammates trailed close behind. Thor was leaping from building to building in a trail of lightning, but it was subdued in a way that told him even the mighty God was nervous. Stephen was following in flashes of golden portals, and just below them Tony could make out Bucky swerving through traffic on his motorbike, in full black armour and a mask and goggles covering most of his face. He didn’t have to see their expressions to know they were just as anxious as he was. They always were during “missions” like these. The Avengers rarely turned up when they were just helping little old ladies in the street or rescuing local shops from robbers. But when it came to things that were on the news, they never failed to turn up. He supposed it was the coverage - the world would certainly love to see the oh-so-great Avengers finally apprehending the oh-so-terrible villains. He knew today would be no different.

“Tony?” Rhodey called for him, and he looked over with a nod of his head. Rhodey was looking straight forward.

“Yeah, I know Rhodey, but-”

“No, Tony, _look_ ,” Rhodey interrupted him, grabbing hold of his arm and stopping him mid-air. Behind them, Stephen and Thor stopped moving and stared ahead. Tony followed their gazes.

They were there.

The whole damn lot of them were there _already_ , assembled on top of the bank and staring right at them with smug faces. All of them had arrived this time. Usually it was just Steve and one other, sometimes Natasha and Clint if the Captain was feeling particularly unbothered that day. But this time it was all of them. Steve leading the pack, of course. Sam and Natasha by his side. Clint on an adjacent building with his arrow raised towards them and that witch, Wanda, by his rear. Clint had always been protective of her, Tony wondered if he still would be if he knew exactly the things she had done. And then there was Vision, on another adjacent building with-

“Who the hell is that?” Rhodey asked, nodding his head to the newest member of the team. Tony could only shrug in response.

They were smaller than the others, dressed up head to toe in a red and blue spandex suit with a black spider emblem sat on the front. It looked familiar, the design that is, but Tony couldn’t quite remember where he’d seen it before.

“That’s Spiderman,” Stephen answered over the comms. “He used to operate around Queens. Local vigilante turned Avenger, apparently. New suit too, looks fancy.”

Spiderman. That’s right. Tony remembered seeing him on the news sometimes, but it was in a different suit back then. He must have gotten a serious upgrade when he joined the Avengers, because the last he saw of him he was in pyjamas. Strong guy; smart too if he was the one who made those webs. Tony used to admire the guy. He was always on the news for helping out the civilians around Queens - stopping cars from crashing into each other, literally webbing up criminals to walls for the police to arrest. Tony admired anyone who still fought crime away from the Avengers. But then he went radio silent for a few months. Tony had assumed he’d died fighting crime, but apparently he’d followed a worse fate.

“Watch out for him, he might be dangerous,” Tony ordered over the comms. He didn’t have time to think about how sad it was that someone like Spiderman could turn into someone like them. “FRIDAY, I need you to override their communication system, let’s hear what these dipshits are planning.” He added, speaking to the AI system programmed within his suit. Its voice responded with a quick confirmation, and Tony lowered himself onto the building opposite the Avengers.

“Hello again, Tony,” Steve called out from across the building. Tony ignored him.

“Strange, I need you to set up some kind of distraction so Rhodey can get away and join Bucky behind the bank,” Tony asked, his voice lowered into a whisper. A little holographic map in front of his eyes showed a blinking dot moving in behind the bank, unnoticed by the superheroes standing above. Trust Bucky Barnes to get by unseen by some of the strongest superheroes and best assassins in the world. If he was still an Avenger, they’d be screwed.

“What do you suggest, Stark?” Stephen said, but there was a smirk in his voice that told him he already had an idea. One that he probably wasn’t going to like either. Strange’s magic always messed up his brain - some of the things he could do were just not right by nature.

“Something classy with a hint of absolutely horrifying.”

“I have just the thing,” Stephen’s smooth voice called over the comms.

Soon the building’s and pavements below were being morphed into different, jagged directions. Windows had begun covering up the sky, and doors and walls had been flipped on their sides. It built a maze around the two opposing groups, which was exactly what Tony was hoping for. The police below remained unaware of the disorientation - frozen in spot to where they stood. The roof of the bank where the Avengers stood had flipped upside down, flinging the confused heroes to the shaking ground. All of the building’s adjacent were rising up to a 90 degree angle, and all but one of the Avengers jumped down to join the rest. Only the Spider stayed, still standing tall on the building as though it were nothing.

By Tony’s side, Rhodey still stood motionless. He reached over and grabbed his arm, shaking him ever so slightly.

“Rhodey? That was your cue, get a move on bud.”

“I _am_ moving, Stark,” Rhodey muttered over the comms in annoyance. Faintly, Tony could hear Stephen laughing under his breath.

He looked back over to the armour standing next to him in bewilderment. It took him a few seconds and a lot of squinting to make out the little glitches in its appearance. It was an illusion. “God damn it, Strange,” he grumbled. “You better make this thing look more realistic if Rhodey and Bucky are gonna save those people.” Stephen hummed in response - he always loved to make a fool of him.

“Tony, you should join them,” Thor said, flipping his axe in his hands and immediately, without warning, throwing it into the centre of where the Avengers were standing. The flashes of lightning seemed to blind them as they flung back and shielded their eyes. “Quickly,” the God added with a grin. Tony didn’t have much choice but to move.

“Thanks, Point Break. You two sure you can handle this alone?” Tony asked, shooting himself up from the ground and manoeuvring through the newly awkward mess of buildings.

“What do you take us for, Stark? Of course we can,” Thor responded with the smuggest grin plastered on his face. Tony didn’t question it.

He trusted his guys - it may have taken him seven years, but he trusted them more than he trusted himself. So if they said they had this, then Tony believed them. And he believed without a doubt that after all of this was over they would all be okay. They would all return to their penthouse apartment like they always did - completely exhausted, but not in a prison cell. The Avengers may have caught them off guard today, but they were used to dodging out of their grasps no matter how close they got. It was just like any other time. He just had to treat it like any other time they’d clashed heads.

Except, this wasn’t like any other time. And it wasn’t until Tony felt something sticky wrap around one of his hands and malfunction his repulsor that he remembered the newest addition to the Avengers. One that he hadn’t realised had dodged Thor’s blinding attack and managed to follow him through the maze of buildings.

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, desperately trying to tear off the substance as he started flying through each narrow gap of each building, hoping to shake off the persistent arachnid following him. There was no hope. The guy was fast.

“Boss, you’re too far away for me to continue overriding the Avenger’s communication system. Right now, I can only get you through to the comms of the assailant behind you,” FRIDAY called out. Tony shouted a confirmation, he wanted to know just who the hell this guy thought he was. But, as soon as the voice on the other end came through, he felt his face pale.

“I’m sorry about this, Mr. Stark,” the voice whispered slowly, mostly to himself. Tony instantly stopped in his tracks, and whipped around to stare at the Avenger behind him with unbridled horror. The owner of the voice stopped abruptly, and lowered himself to the floor with his web in what must have been deep confusion. There was a swaying imbalance to him that Tony didn't ignore, but that wasn't important right now.

This wasn’t just any person.

This was a _kid_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the song mentioned at the start. Khai Dreams is everything to me.  
> Also: We get Peter & Tony interaction next chapter! Finally! Hell yeah!


	3. Spiderlings and Sleeping Bombs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only took me about a long time but hey the third chapter is finally here! If the formatting sucks its because I've forgotten how to use AO3 oopsies ;)

> _“There’s this feeling I can’t seem to shake in the back of my mind,_
> 
> _But it starts at my heart and I find it looking in your eyes._
> 
> _I was running, was running, just trying to reach the end,_
> 
> _But I tripped and instead I found a new place to begin” - Khai Dreams; New Place to Begin_

* * *

 Tony couldn’t move.

His chest was starting to tighten into thick knots and his armour was beginning to suffocate him, but he couldn’t bring himself to breathe. He only stared at the young hero in front of him, eyeing him with disturbed contemplation. He’d heard a teenager’s voice somewhere under that suit, small and feverish and brimming with youthful innocence. He knew he was supposed to say something - do something, at the very least - but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate. He was completely paralyzed, stuck somewhere in limbo between acute shock and nostalgia. Neither feeling made sense to him whatsoever - frankly, he felt like he was overreacting a tad. Really, he shouldn't have been as shocked as he felt. The Avengers recruited a kid to do their dirty work? Sounded about right. They weren’t the same people he knew back then, he wasn’t surprised they’d sunk to this type of low. But that feeling of nostalgia? That peculiar little pecking at his heart? Now that didn’t make any damn sense. He didn’t know this kid, he didn’t especially know any kids, and he was absolutely certain this child wasn’t an Avenger when he was there. He never would have let a kid go out and fight terrorists and mutant alien killing machines and people who _murdered_ other people. He didn’t know what the hell the Avengers were thinking.

    “Uh, Mr. Stark? I-Uh, are you okay?” the young hero asked, head tilted in such a childish manner that Tony wanted to laugh or cry - he wasn’t sure which at this point. The kid shuffled closer, cautiously keeping his distance. He was swaying still, and his shoulders had slumped with fatigue and there was a slur to his voice that bothered Tony more than it should have. “I-I know you’re probably surprised to hear my voice aga-”

    “Who are you?” Tony interrupted, his voice finally returning in a burst of confused anger. He didn’t know who he was angry at - he felt angry at everyone and everything at this point. When the teenager flinched away and started shuffling back, Tony felt his heart drop to his stomach. So he lowered his tone into something softer, and tried again. “Jesus, okay- I don’t- How _old_ are you?”

    “I-I’m- I’m-” he answered lightly, before a violent rupture of coughing tore through his throat. Tony cringed at the noise. Each time the kid tried to answer, another fit of wheezy coughs had him keeled over to the floor. After the third string of attempts, he finally lifted up his mask to his nose to breathe.

    Tony lifted up his faceplate and kneeled down slightly, eyes gazing over each symptom. He was shivering, barely propping himself up on unsteady knees. There were beads of sweat rolling down the exposed pale skin of his face, and his jaw was clenched in something like pain. He had a fever, and Tony was a lot more worried about it than common sense told him to be. It wasn’t his responsibility to look after this child. He still needed to go help Bucky and Rhodey, and there was only so long that Stephen and Thor could hold back the Avengers on their own. Besides, it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for this kid.

He wasn’t supposed to be here, and yet something made him stay anyway.

    After inhaling a few deep, ragged breaths, he was finally able to reply. “I’m, uh, I’m 20?” At that, Tony let out a burst of laughter.

    “Try again, Spiderling.”

    There was a pause before the kid grumbled a reply. It took Tony a few seconds to process it, and when he did he almost choked on his breath.

    “I’m sorry, did- did you just say you’re _15_? As in, one five? As in, definitely too young to be out at this time of night?” Tony scolded, and he hated how much he sounded like his own mother. He wasn’t supposed to be acting parental right now. It wasn’t exactly on the agenda to adopt a faceless superhero spiderkid.

    “It’s not even nighttime, Mr. Stark. It’s still kinda light out,” the kid replied, but his voice had travelled elsewhere and Tony only just managed to hear this own name before the kid started swaying again, and fell back into the brick wall clutching his head.

    Another fit of coughs escaped his mouth, and Tony looked around frantically. He never would’ve thought he’d be wishing to see one of the Avengers right now. He just needed someone, anyone, to pick up this teenager so Tony didn’t have to worry about him dying. Hell, he wouldn’t even be _that_ mad if Steve came to his rescue, Tony just needed to know he would be okay. Except, there were no signs of any unexpected guests. No rescue was coming. Stephen’s magic still filled the air and the sounds of battle hung heavy alongside it. There were no footsteps approaching, no sudden voices that indicated any worry for their young teammate. It really wasn’t his responsibility in the slightest, but he knew what he had to do. Even if his friends were going to absolutely slaughter him Texas Chainsaw style afterwards.

    “Alright, you’re going home,” Tony said, letting his faceplate shut back into place as he approached the teenager. When he noticed Tony getting closer, he flinched and scurried back, shaking his head in protest. He tried lifting himself to the ground, but his legs had stopped cooperating.

    “No, no, no, I have to- I have to arrest you, Mr. Stark,” he argued, words jumbling over each other in his fever-induced state.

Tony laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. That was the fourth time he’d called him ‘Mr. Stark’ - this was the nicest kid he’d ever met. It was almost a shame that the Avengers found him first. Tony would’ve always made sure he was safe if he was with them instead, but that didn’t matter right now.

“I never let myself get arrested without a fight, kid. And it’s not fair to fight someone who’s sick, is it?”

The teenager shook his head with a little, mumbled, “I guess not.” Still he kept shrinking away from him, and Tony had to admire how the kid was still conscious in spite of the rough fever. He was strong, a lot stronger than Tony thought he was before. It almost broke his heart trying to imagine what the hell this kid thought he was going to do him. He had no doubt that he’d been flooded with lies about Iron Man and his band of ‘villains’ and ‘war criminals’. He didn’t typically care that the world was fed lies about his supposed villany, but something about this kid being fed the same stories didn’t sit right with him.

“FRIDAY?” he spoke softly, stepping away for a second. “How are we on those sleep bombs I installed into the suit?”

As ridiculous as ‘sleep bombs’ sounded, Tony had to make them. As badly as he hated the Avengers, he never wanted to kill them. They were an inconvenience, but not enough to warrant murder. Besides, they still used to be his friends. Part of him still hopes that maybe one day they’ll come to their senses - realise that he isn’t the bad guy that everyone says he is. That day can’t come if he kills them. The only trouble is they make it so _difficult_ to give him any other choice - they’re persistent as hell and rough to boot. So instead of holding back, Tony did what he does best - he started making things. Specifically, things to throw them off. Sleep bombs were one of the latest of those things, and he’d been working on them for a few months. Although he’d never gotten the chance to test them, see if they worked as well as he’d hoped. Now was the perfect opportunity to do just that.

“They should be fully operational, boss. Emphasis on the should,” his AI responded, and a little panel on his chest opened out to reveal two little vials of liquid. If Tony had manufactured it right (which he was about 98% sure he had), the liquid was supposed to explode on impact when the vial broke, leaving a cloud of sleeping gas in its wake.

    “I can work with should,” Tony hummed, eyeing up the little bottle and dropping it on the floor. He looked up, watching as the kid slowly rose to his feet and stared with confusion. Tony let an apologetic smile cross his face. “Alright kid, this won’t hurt one bit. Probably.”

    “Wait wha-” he started to argue, but when Tony slammed his foot down onto the glass vial he was immediately silenced by the thick fog that filled the alleyway. For a moment Tony could hear him coughing violently, until after a few seconds silence fell upon the two of them. He really hoped he hadn’t killed him.

 

The smoke cleared up after a few seconds, and soon Tony could see the body of the kid laid out on the floor. Still breathing, judging by the way his chest rose and fell softly under peaceful unconsciousness. His bomb worked, but he didn’t have time to celebrate right now (maybe later, just as an excuse to buy the unhealthiest fast food he could find to cope with how stressful this day had become). Slowly, he approached the unconscious figure and kneeled by his side, taking one last look around him. There was still a chance they could arrive.

“Sorry about this one kid, but you’ll forgive me when you wake up in your nice cosy bed in a few hours,” he said, a hint of remorse in his voice as he held the mask in his fingertips and slowly pulled it back. He knew the kid’s identity was a secret, and this was a total violation of privacy, but he needed to know.

When the kid’s face was finally revealed, a sudden shockwave burst through his skin and Tony had to hold himself together to stop from falling back. He didn’t know why, but his heart was beating faster than normal and there was a _warmth_ there. A familiarity that he just couldn’t put his finger on. Did he know this kid? He couldn’t have, he didn’t know any kids from New York, and he especially didn’t know any kids with superhero alter-egos. It must have been just a reaction to the shock. After all, hearing he was 15 was one thing but _seeing_ the physical youth in his face was another.

“FRIDAY? Do a scan on this kid’s face. I need a name and address,” Tony called out absently. From within his suit he could see FRIDAY scan, from the curly brown hair, to the little marks of scars and blemishes across his cheeks, down to his chin. Soon, a visual description of the kid was staring at him.

“His name is Peter Parker, 15 years of age. He currently lives in Queens with his Aunt, May Parker. No other relatives known to be alive,” FRIDAY called out, and Tony nodded along with each item. A frown spread across his face when FRIDAY finished.

Only one relative? That was rough. Maybe that was why he joined the Avengers, look out for his aunt under the guise of having a summer job. Or avoid getting arrested and leaving her all alone. It filled Tony with just a little bit of hope that maybe this kid didn’t join the Avengers because he wanted to, but because he _needed_ to - maybe he was even forced to. Truthfully? He didn’t understand why he cared this much. The Avengers had done worse than this, so why did this particular instance bother him? The Parker family was not a name familiar to him, nor was it one he should care about, and yet still he did.

“Christ, alright. FRIDAY give me directions to the kids house, and, uh, tell the others I’ll be back soon.”

“No need, Stark, we’re here,” a voice called in front of him, sounding ever so slightly irritated. Tony looked up to see Stephen and Thor approaching him, glancing between himself and Peter. When they saw the kid’s suit, they stopped in their tracks. Tony looked around them and noticed that the streets had gone back to normal, and the sky had returned to its darkening orange glow. He hadn’t even realised.

“Where’s Bucky and Rhodey? Where are the Avengers?” Tony asked, lifting the helmet from his face to get a good look at his friends. They were mostly unharmed, just a few scratches here and there. The most damage was to their faces - they looked completely washed out.

“They’re coming here now. They got the hostages to safety,” Stephen explained slowly, finally looking back up to Tony with an angry look on his face. “No thanks to you. We thought you’d gotten killed yet here you are, doing what exactly?”

“Kidnapping a child?” Thor asked, walking over to kneel by Tony’s side.

Tony went to explain, but another voice interrupted him.

“Tony! Jesus, you’re alive?” Rhodey called out, and when he and Bucky stood by Stephen’s side they both stopped and stared down at the unconscious Avenger.

“I didn’t realise kidnapping children was our thing now,” Bucky chuckled, only slightly worried at the current situation. He lifted up his mask and pulled his goggles up over his head. “Who is this kid and what’s up with the spandex?”

“This kid is an _Avenger_ ,” Stephen seethed, and Tony rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Didn’t realise they were recruiting toddlers nowadays,” Rhodey added. “Why is he unconscious? Tony, what did you do to him?”

Tony let out a deep breath and raised an armoured hand up to his forehead, trying to massage away the growing migraine.

“If you all could shut up, maybe I could explain,” Tony groaned, and when his teammates finally fell silent he let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Long story short, Spiderman is a 15 year old teenager who is, yes, an Avenger. He had a fever, so I knocked him out and I _was_ planning to take him home because our very trustworthy buddies out there didn’t seem to be coming after him. And now you guys are here.”

For a moment, his teammates looked down at the child. There was pity in their eyes, and a sadness that must have matched his own when he realised just how young Peter was. They might’ve been a bunch of assholes, but they weren’t monsters, after all. How could the Avengers let a child this young go out and do stuff that could get him killed? At the thought of his favourite superheroes, Tony looked around in confusion.

“Where did the Avengers go, anyway?” he asked, and Thor let out a huff of laughter.

“Surrendered. Our old friend Sawyer called them to retreat,” the God chuckled, clearly loving the boost to his ego. Tony couldn’t blame him.

He was glad they had bailed willingly, but part of him had hoped they’d stayed. He still figured that at least one of them had that little bit of humanity left in them. Just enough to come back for one of their own instead of completely abandoning them. Tony could barely stand the thought of leaving one of these grown ass men behind with their enemies, let alone a 15-year old kid. It annoyed him that they had just left - it almost disappointed him (he didn't realise he had any of that emotion left). But if they weren’t going to do it, then _he_ was going to take the kid home. Maybe leave him some money too, enough to persuade him to get the hell out of this superhero business while he was still young. No child deserves to get so close to death so often. Not a single one of them deserved it, really. But that was the fate of a superhero - or villain, in their case.

“We should take him home before he wakes up,” Bucky said, hopping back onto his motorbike and leaning over the handles. He seemed more casual about this situation than the rest.

“You all head back, I’ve got this,” Tony said, moving to pick up Peter into his arms. He had to push back the immense hurt in his chest at how small and almost fragile the boy looked.

“And if they’re waiting for you?” Stephen scoffed. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I don’t think they think high enough of us that they’ll expect us to take him home.”

With that, Tony shooted himself and the kid up into the air and followed the directions FRIDAY gave him towards Queens. He knew his teammates were stubbornly following behind, but he was much too proud to thank them and far too exhausted to argue any longer. He didn’t know how much longer the kid was going to sleep, and he didn’t want to risk dropping him from this height if he woke up in a frenzy. All he had to do was get him home, give him a couple bucks and maybe even a little semi-threatening note, and that would be it.

Hopefully, tonight would be the last he’d ever see of Spiderman.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tis kinda short butttttt oh well <3 Hope this was enjoyed xxx


End file.
